


Call Me Anytime

by DuckInterpreter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, just read chapter 1 if you only want pwp it's got a good ending, man this ended up with a lot of plot i'm so sorry lol, okay a little bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-11 18:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11719911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuckInterpreter/pseuds/DuckInterpreter
Summary: Stiles is a lot more than just a prostitute, but Derek is more than just a customer.





	1. You Called?

Stiles was twenty-two. He was studying criminal psychology at a great college, and he lived in an apartment he loved with his best friend.  
He was also a prostitute.  
Really, his employment was _why_ he could do all the other stuff. He had virtually no debt, and he payed more of the rent and bills than Scott knew so they could keep living in a nice place near their campus. Scott was a bartender and a barista to keep on top of bills, and honestly he worked harder than Stiles did- Stiles just happened to be in an industry that paid a little better. 

He’d gotten a text from his manager an hour before about a new client- fairly short notice, but not too bad. He didn’t have to do quite the maintenance that some of the girls he worked with did- he’d gotten ready with them before and honestly it looked like a form of torture. Now that deserved the premium rates.  
No special requests, no added details from the client except he wanted to pick Stiles up. From home, was presumably his thought, but once he was ready Stiles had walked a half dozen blocks from his place to a different address he’d sent back. One of Scott’s ex’s used to live there so he knew they always left the lobby door open. 

He’d decided on a nice blue button-up and black slacks, the top couple of buttons of his shirt undone, cologne. A date outfit. That sort of thing followed wanting to be picked up. He also wore a satchel, filled with supplies for the night- condoms, lube, toys, pepper spray (just in case). It didn’t quite match the outfit but he didn’t mind too much. 

He got to the other address fifteen minutes early and fidgeted in the chair in the empty lobby. Almost as the clock ticked over to 7pm the buzzer sounded. Stiles ran a hand through his hair, nervous- he was always nervous, before. Even with people he’d seen a dozen times but a new customer was a whole different kind of nervous. He skipped to the door and relaxed. No way was this his guy. He was gorgeous. Suit jacket over a soft-looking shirt, perfect stubble, and a jaw chiseled from stone. His eyes were a colour Stiles almost couldn’t conjure a name for- definitely green, but maybe also blue? Maybe brown too? Golden, almost. 

“Hey, man,” Stils said, smiling easily. He was tempted to ask for his number, to be honest, but he was working. “The buzzer is broken, you’ll have to just go up.”  
He stood aside, holding the door. The guy hesitated.  
“Oh, I um-,” he paused, “my… friend, said he’d be waiting in the lobby for me?” His voice was perfectly deep, melodious. It took Stiles a moment to process what he was saying.  
“Wait- are you Hale?” he asked.  
The guy nodded, relaxed just a touch. “Yeah, I’m Derek- Derek Hale. You’re Max?”  
Max was the name Stiles used through work- Stiles was not a common enough name or nickname to go by it.  
“Sorry,” Stiles said, stepping out and closing the door behind him, “I wasn’t expecting you to uh-” he looked Derek up and down and smirked, “to be on time.”  
Derek blushed, of all things, which delighted Stiles. This might actually be fun.  
“So where are we off to, Derek?” Stiles asked, walking down the stairs, with Derek a step behind.  
“Um- just- my place? Is that okay?” Derek’s voice was quiet, uncertain.  
Stiles paused, turned to smile up at Derek, who was on the step above him. He touched Derek’s chest, ignoring the slight shiver that ran down his own spine.  
“We can do whatever you want,” he said, quietly, “you wanna go home? Let’s go home. You want to take me to the nearest alley and have me blow you there? Fuck me up against the wall? We can do that too. Tonight is up to you.”  
Derek swallowed.  
“Let’s- let’s go home.”  
Stiles smiled and stepped aside, let him lead the way. 

When they reached the car Stiles paused, impressed. “This isn’t yours, is it?” he asked, eyebrows raised.  
Derek smiled, not shy for the first time, almost smug. It was beautiful, a sleek black camaro, surprisingly ostentatious for what Stiles was expecting.  
“It’s a few years old now,” was all Derek said, clicking a button to unlock it. Stiles slid into the passenger seat and admired the interior, which was just about as beautiful as the exterior. It smelt just slightly like whatever cologne Derek was wearing, enough that Stiles didn’t think it was a rental.  
Derek pulled out, the car rumbling pleasantly beneath them and Stiles allowed himself a minute to just enjoy the ride. 

Then it was back to work. 

“So,” Stiles turned slightly in his seat, “what do you do, Derek?”  
Derek paused, and Stiles added, “if you feel like sharing, of course. You can tell me more about this beautiful thing if you don’t,” he patted the dash.  
Derek glanced to the side and smiled, just slightly. “I- work in the library.”  
“You’re a librarian?” Stiles grinned.  
“No, not really. I work with old manuscripts and first editions, that sort of thing. I help authenticate them, date them, make sure they’re taken care of. That sort of thing.”  
“That’s really interesting,” Stiles said.  
“It’s really not, you don’t have to- you don’t have to pretend,” Derek’s voice was a little soft, and Stiles studied him for a moment. He was a hard one to get a read on. Stiles was studying profiling, among other things, and it had come in handy more often than not in his line of work. Derek didn’t read as violent or sadistic, in or out of the bedroom. Customers are supposed to say beforehand if they want anything too far outside the norm, but they didn’t always. Derek was shy, but Stiles guessed that around people he was comfortable with that melted away. That being said, he doubted there were many people he was comfortable around. The car felt like an anomaly, too flashy for him, but Stiles considered it briefly. He’d said it was a few years old, so maybe he’d gotten it and then- then something had happened. Something that made him more withdrawn and private. Something that made him dislike being lied to, even about something as small as saying you thought his job was interesting if you didn’t really.  
“I’m not pretending,” Stiles said, “I really do think it’s interesting. I have a friend who’s an archaeologist, she specialises in anthropology, but usually the cultures she looks at are too ancient to have any paper goods left. Right now, though, she’s in Jordan and they’ve started to find some books and writing on early Christianity, and it’s like, changing the whole way we understand our own past. I think people are fascinating, and the best way to understand people is to look at our past, at how we were different, but how we were the same as well.”  
Derek nodded, “Yeah, everyone thinks people who lived more than fifty or a hundred years ago may as well as be a different species but- Ancient Rome had fast food drive-throughs! The graffiti they’ve found in Pompeii, it’s just like you’d find in any bathroom in America. But we still keep repeating our mistakes,” Derek shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble. What about you, what do you do?”  
Stiles quirked an eyebrow and Derek glanced at him and reddened. “Oh- yeah. Right,” he laughed, but it was nervous, unsure.  
Stiles reached over and touched his cheek. “It’s all good. You’re cute when you blush.” 

Derek blushed deeper, and didn’t move his face away from Stiles’ hand, so he ran a thumb along Derek’s cheekbone, stoked down along his jaw, just barely ran his fingers down Derek’s neck, dipping slighting beneath his collar. Derek swallowed and shifted slightly, and Stiles smiled.  
“How far from your place are we?” he asked.  
“Not far,” Derek said, a little strained.  
Stiles curled his hand around the back of Derek’s neck, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.  
“Let me know when- if- you want me to stop,” Stiles said, his hand stilling for a moment. Derek nodded slightly, but made no other move, so Stiles continued stroking Derek’s neck, rubbing gently up the tendons on one side. Derek sighed, almost imperceptibly, and leaned into his hand. Stiles took it as a sign and spent a minute putting a little extra pressure on his neck, pressing his fingers into tense muscles there.  
“Tense,” Stiles murmured.  
“That’s- really nice,” Derek said, “but I can’t focus on the road.”  
Stiles laughed and took his hand away, after raking his fingers through the back of Derek’s hair once more. Derek shivered and Stiles smirked a little.  
They really were close to their destination, apparently, because only a minute later Derek pulled into a parking lot beneath a tall building. 

Once parked they got into an elevator Derek had to swipe a card to get into. The inside had dark red carpet and a mirror tinted slightly gold. Stiles looked around it as Derek hit the button for one of the top floors.  
“You work in a library?” Stiles asked, eyebrow raised.  
Derek shrugged.

Stiles kept his hands to himself as the elevator rose- no need to risk the doors opening to a shocked neighbour and making trouble for Derek. But it was tempting, which surprised Stiles. He was very good at being into whatever they were doing in the moment, but also at being professional outside it. He was attracted to Derek, more than he really should be. More than was professional. 

He looked in the mirror and adjusted his hair to avoid looking at him for a moment, trying to regain his composure. 

Derek’s apartment was directly across the hall from where the elevator opened and he led them in. He was more relaxed than he’d been since Stiles had met him, in his own element here.  
Stiles paused at the door, looking around as Derek went to turn on lights.  
“You work in a library?” he asked again.  
It was a gorgeous place, possibly one of the nicest that Stiles had been to. Tastefully decorated, new appliances on marble counters, plush white carpet where the room transitioned from kitchen and dining to lounge. It was also spotless, and looked barely lived-in.  
Derek just chuckled.  
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, pulling two glasses from beneath a counter in the kitchen. He put some ice in one and filled it halfway with vodka.  
“Sure,” Stiles said, finally entering all the way and closing the door behind him, “do you have whiskey?”  
Derek hummed an affirmative and put away his bottle and retrieved another. “Rocks?” he asked. Stiles nodded and approached. He touched Derek’s hand when he took the glass from him and took a sip. It was good whiskey, which at this point didn’t surprise him. 

“I uh-,” Derek took a large drink, “I’m supposed to pay you first, right?”  
Stiles nodded, “That’s generally the arrangement, yeah.”  
Derek took a crisp envelope from his pocket and gave it to him, looking down into his drink while Stile took a cursory glance inside, then folded it up and tucked it in his satchel, which he slipped off his shoulder and put down.  
Stiles leaned on the counter in the corner. “Hey,” he said, “come here.” He held out a hand and Derek glanced at him and put down his drink, allowing Stiles to draw him in, almost pressing him against the counter. Stiles reached up with one hand, touched Derek’s face, curled his hand around the back of his neck, and drew him in for a kiss. 

They were almost exactly the same height, but Stiles leaned back a little so Derek had to lean down just a touch. He kissed Stiles almost hesitantly, sweetly, and Stiles sighed into it, pulling his closer. Now Derek opened his mouth more, deepening the kiss. His mouth was cold and tasted like vodka, which usually wasn’t Stiles’ thing, but he’d never enjoyed the taste more.  
Distantly, he thought, ‘it’s probably just because it’s good vodka.’

But he didn’t really believe that. 

Derek’s hands found Stiles’ hips and pulled him close, pressing one leg between Stiles’ slightly spread ones. Stiles moaned, just a little, and he felt Derek smile.  
Stiles’ broke the kiss, a little breathless, and kissed Derek’s neck, softly, then a little harder, nipping slightly. Now Derek moaned and Stiles grinned.  
“No- no marks, okay?” Derek said, voice husky. Stiles nodded and licked into the hollow of Derek’s neck, enjoying the slight rasp of his beard against his mouth. He felt almost like a teenager, too eager, wanting to do everything at once. He was desperate to get his hands on Derek, his mouth, to feel his cock pressed against him, inside him-  
He drew back, took a breath, and looked up at Derek. 

“What do you want to do?”  
Derek licked his lips, looked at Stiles’ mouth, and swallowed. Stiles’ mouth curved into a smile.  
“Do you want my mouth on you?” he asked, soft, his hand trailing from around the back of Derek’s neck, down his chest, to his hip.  
Derek swallowed again, nodded.  
Stiles put both hands on Derek’s hips and turned them so Derek was pressed against the counter. He continued kissing Derek’s neck as he undid his pants. He pressed his palm against where Derek’s cock pressed against his pants before he pulled them down and dropped to his knees. 

He took a moment to admire Derek’s cock- big but not intimidatingly so, uncircumcised, precum leaking slightly from its tip. He looked up at Derek who watched him intently, licked his thumb and rubbed it over the tip and enjoyed Derek’s sharp inhale of breath.  
Then he took him into his mouth, first mouthing the tip, his hand wrapped around the base, then swallowing him down. When he felt Derek’s cock hit the back of his throat he swallowed again, taking him all the way to his base.  
“Fuck,” Derek said above him, his breath heavy. Stiles pulled almost all the way off and sunk down again. Derek’s hand touched his hair, almost hesitantly, and Stiles reached up and pressed his hand against Derek’s. Given permission, Derek buried his hand into Stiles’ hair, almost pulling it, while Stiles worked up and down his cock. Every down and again he’d pause to flick his tongue against the slit and Derek would pull his hair a little harder. Stiles was embarrassingly hard- if this was a personal encounter he’s probably free his own cock, touch himself while he sucked Derek. 

But it wasn’t. 

He focused again, controlled his breathing. After only a few minutes Derek’s hips started to stutter, thrusting up and into Stiles’ mouth, his hand holding tight onto Stiles’ hair. He looked up at Derek, who's eyes were closed, mouth slightly open. He let Derek control the pace, encouraging him to thrust into his mouth by pulling his hips to meet him. Derek groaned and thrust, fucking Stiles’ mouth with abandon.  
“F-fuck,” he groaned, “I’m- I’m going to come.”  
Stiles’ only reply was to suck Derek deeper into his mouth and Derek moaned again, thrusting deeper, but a little more erratically, and less than a minute later he was true to his word, his hips thrusting deep as he came down Stiles’ throat. Stiles swallowed as he did, and Derek gasped and swore. Stiles stayed where he was for a moment, letting Derek soften in his mouth. Derek’s hand loosened in his hair and Stiles slowly pulled off. He looked up at Derek again. Derek’s eyes were open and he looked down at Stiles’, his cheeks flushed and hair dishevelled. Stiles licked his lips and stood, ignoring his knees protesting moving after being on the hard tiles.  
He reached to pick up his drink but Derek pulled him close, kissing him hard, licking into his mouth. Stiles melted into him, his already hard cock throbbing. How was everything Derek did so fucking hot? 

Derek broke the kiss and smiled sheepishly, leaning back and pulling up his pants. Stiles finally took a sip of his drink, although it was a little watery, the ice half-melted.  
“That was-,” Derek shook his head, “that was really good. You’re really good at that.”  
Stiles grinned. “It’s love of the job,” he said, winking.  
Derek just shook his head. He looked loose, relaxed, his shoulders held less rigid. Stiles hadn’t even realised how much tension he held in his body until it started to melt away. 

“So- um,” Derek paused. “Is that- are you done now? Do you want to go?”  
Stiles tilted his head. “Do you want me to go?” he asked.  
Derek shook his head, almost too fast.  
“I’m not done yet then, cowboy,” Stiles said, finishing his drink. “I haven’t even seen the bedroom.”  
“Well, I can do that.”  
Derek took Stiles’ hand and led him out of the kitchen, and Stiles snagged his bag as they went. 

The bedroom was a lush as the rest of the apartment. Thick white carpet, a king-sized bed, one tasteful painting. One wall was mostly taken up by a large, slightly opaque window, which he could just see a shower through.  
Derek sat on the edge of the bed and Stiles stood above him, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him. Derek sighed into it and opened his mouth, his tongue just barely touching Stiles’. 

Stiles pushed off his jacket and broke the kiss to pull his shirt up and off. Derek was warm and pliable, apparently happy to do whatever Stiles wanted, at least for the moment. Stiles stepped back to rummage in his bag, taking in Derek’s chest and stomach as he did. He was pretty sure he had an eight-pack, and a thick trail of hair lead down enticingly to the top of his pants. Stiles realised he’d happily suck Derek’s cock again right now. He almost shook his head at himself. Finally he found what he was looking for and he climbed onto the bed behind Derek. Derek went to move, but Stiles put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Stay there,” he said.  
He paused for a second, surprised. Derek had a large tattoo on his back, between his shoulderblades. He wasn’t expecting that.  
He tore his eyes away from it to spread a little oil between his hands, rubbing them together to warm it up.  
“Are you allergic to any essential oils or anything?” he asked, before he touched Derek. He really should have asked before, he thought, reprimanding himself internally.  
But Derek shook his head.  
“I’m only allergic to mango,” he said.  
Stiles smoothed his hands over Derek’s shoulders, starting soft but applying pressure where he felt tension.  
“Ooooh,” Derek sighed. “That’s nice.”  
Stiles hummed, focusing on Derek’s shoulders, the base of his neck. 

He went to go around his shoulder blades, but Derek flinched when he touched his tattoo. Stiles paused, removed his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said, “does that hurt?”  
Derek shook his head, “No it’s just- don’t touch there, is that okay?”  
“Of course,” Stiles said. He kept doing Derek’s shoulders and neck, not moving any lower. He felt marginally more in control of himself now. 

“How’s that?” he asked, softly.  
Derek just nodded.  
“Good,” he said, after a moment. “It’s really good.” 

Stiles kissed the back of Derek’s neck gently, his fingers probing the tense muscles a little lower. He kissed behind his ear, ran his nose along the back of the ridge of head ear. Derek’s breath was coming a little heavier now. Stiles’ hands stilled and he leaned over a little more, kissing more of Derek’s neck. Derek reached up, ran a hand through Stiles’ hair. He turned his head and Stiles kissed him, gently, running his tongue along Derek’s lower lip. Derek sighed. 

“Would you like me to keep going?” Stiles asked, “or would you like to do something else?” 

“I think,” Derek said, “that I’d like to get you out of those clothes.” 

Stiles grinned. “That’s doable,” he said.  
He had some cloths in his bag and he used one to remove the excess oil from Derek back, and then he stood and Derek pulled him close, kissed him again, still loose and warm and soft. He unbuttoned Stiles’ shirt slowly, taking in every extra inch of skin that was revealed. Stiles’ swallowed, his eyes on Derek’s face, so intent on him, his beautiful eyes apparently enjoying Stiles’ body. It felt almost- unbelievable, that someone as beautiful as Derek could find anything worth looking at in Stiles, but still he did, slowly pushing his shirt off his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. His large hands cupped the base of Stiles’ neck, running down his bare chest, incredibly tender, even as he unbuttoned Stiles’ pants and pushed them down down. Derek’s breath caught as Stiles’ cock sprang free. 

“You’re hard,” Derek said, quietly, something like reverently, one hand slowly stroking a line up the underside of Stiles’ cock. Stiles’ made an involuntary sound.  
“I have been since the car,” he said wryly.  
Derek smiled, slow, and wrapped a hand around Stiles. Stiles groaned and leaned his head against Derek’s shoulder while Derek worked his hand, almost torturously slowly, up and down his cock. He cupped his balls, applying slight pressure, and moved back up, the palm of his hand rubbing over the tip of his cock, which was leaking precum like a broken tap.  
“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles said, whimpered.  
“I think I’d like you to fuck me,” Derek said, tightening his hand slightly. Stiles groaned again and nodded eagerly.  
“Yeah- yeah, I think that’s that’s a good idea,” Stiles said, his hands fumbling for Derek’s fly. He sucked a spot on Derek’s collarbone while he did, and Derek’s hand moved faster, his breath ragged.  
He pushed down Derek’s pants, pulled away as he did. 

“Oops,” he said, running a finger over where his mouth had been, “that might leave a mark.”  
Derek glanced down at it. “It’s alright, I can cover that with my shirt,” he said, “I just don’t like turtlenecks,” he laughed, “they don’t suit me.”  
“I find it hard to believe anything doesn’t suit you,” Stiles said, kicking off his pants and shoes while Derek did the same. 

Derek laughed and pulled him close, kissing him. He wasn’t quite hard again yet, but he was definitely getting there. Stiles enjoyed the delicious feeling of so much skin on skin, and Derek took a step back pulling them both down onto the bed. The fell together, all smiles around kisses. Stiles rolled on top of Derek, pressed a leg between his, and kissed him deeply, rubbing against Derek’s hip. Derek moaned and pressed up and Stiles moaned and pressed down, and for a minute they continued like that, making out like teenagers, almost like there was no need to go any further. 

But then Stiles really needed to go further. 

He broke away, reached back for his bag at the end of the bed, Derek’s eyes dark and on him in the dim light.  
“Lube preference?” he asked. Derek shook his head, so Stiles grabbed his KY. “Do you prefer fingers or toys to get ready?”  
“Fingers,” Derek said, voice rough.  
Stiles grinned. He pulled out a few condoms and left them off to one side, within easy reach, and crawled back between Derek’s legs. He touched Derek’s hips, kissed their sharp curve, and Derek raised his hips, slipping a pillow beneath them. Stiles sighed happily and paused to admire Derek laid out for him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, unthinking, then his face heated up. That really wasn’t the kind of thing you say to a customer. But Derek just shook his head and grinned. 

He kissed Derek’s hips more as he spread a little lube on his fingers. Gently he ran his fingers over him, until he found his hole. Derek moaned softly as Stiles pushed on it gently, the very tip of his finger slipping inside. Derek was almost fully hard again, so while Stiles slowly worked a lube finger inside him he took Derek’s cock into his mouth again, mouthing at the tip and licking up its length. Derek groaned.  
“Is that too much?” Stiles asked, stilling for a moment.  
Derek shook his head emphatically and Stiles grinned, put a little more lube on his fingers and licked his cock again, slipping a finger inside of him. After a few moments he worked in a second. Derek’s hips thrust slightly and he panted. Stiles fingered him slowly, curling his fingers slightly inside him and Derek’s head arched back.  
“More,” he moaned, “please, please, please-,”  
Stiles sucked him hard into his mouth and added a third finger and Derek swore. Stiles took a few more moments, just enjoying going down on him and fingering him, before he straightened, grabbing a condom with his free hand and ripping it open with his teeth, his fingers still slowly pumping in and out of Derek. Stiles put even more lube on his cock and slid closer.  
“Are you ready?” he asked, softly.  
Derek nodded. Stiles pulled his fingers out slowly and lined up his cock, licking his lips. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed inside. He closed his eyes against the intensity of the sensation, breathed out slowly, even as Derek inhaled sharply. He pushed until he was completely inside Derek and they both paused, breathing hard, their eyes locked. Stiles gripped Derek’s hips and pulled out and thrust back in and Derek’s head tilted back. The spot of his collarbone was purpling and Stiles smiled slightly as he started a steady rhythm, not too fast, not yet, just steady, building momentum slowly. 

He wrapped a hand around Derek’s cock, tugging it in time with his thrusts, lube on his hand making him slick and wet.  
He thrust faster, pressing down on Derek’s hip with his free hand, panting a little while Derek whimpered and moaned.  
“Can you come again, Derek?” Stiles asked, pushing deep and squeezing the base of Derek’s cock a little. Derek whimpered a little but nodded.  
“Will you come for me?” Stiles said, softly. He buried his cock deep inside him as he said it, and Derek moaned. “Please? Come on Derek,” Stiles said, his own hips stuttering he was so close, “come for me,” he said. It was totally off-script, but Stiles was so far gone he couldn’t even bring himself to care.  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Derek groaned, and cum shot from the end of his cock, landing on Stiles’ hand, his own stomach, a little on Stiles. 

It pushed Stiles over the edge and he thrust once more, deep, and groaned as the orgasm was torn out of him, more intense than any he’d ever had with a customer. They both stilled slowly, breath heavy from both of them. 

Slowly, Stiles pulled out and Derek sighed. He found his cloth and cleaned them both up, although, eyes locked with Derek, he licked a little of Derek’s come off his thumb first. Derek grinned and shook his head.  
“You’re a menace,” he said, letting Stiles wipe the come from his stomach and cock, handling him gently. He took off his condom and tied it off, throwing it in a small bin to the side of Derek’s bed.  
“Is that alright?” he asked. Derek nodded. He reached out a hand and Stiles took it, let Derek pull him down next to him so they laid side-by-side on the bed. Derek kissed him, his hand just barely touching the underside of Stiles’ jaw. 

“That was great,” he said, his eyes closing. Stiles just smiled, watched as he slowly drifted off to sleep. 

He allowed himself a few minutes of watching Derek sleep, let his feelings surface and bubble over. 

Then he took a deep breath and sat up, careful not to disturb Derek. Before he reached the end of the bed though, a sleepy voice behind him said, “wait.”  
Stiles looked over his shoulder. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, gently, softly.  
“Just- can you stay the night?” Derek asked, eyes barely open, “I’m happy to pay, whatever you like. Just sleep with me?”  
Stiles paused, torn. He really, really, shouldn’t.  
He nodded. “Yeah, okay. I just have to text my manager, let her know,” he said softly.  
Derek nodded and shifted, pulling the blankets down.  
Stiles took out his phone and hesitated again, then sent “Home safe.”  
Then he crawled under the covers with Derek, their bare bodies lining up perfectly. After a while Derek rolled over and Stiles pulled himself closer, an arm around Derek’s waist. 

This was definitely a bad idea, he thought. 

Then he slept.


	2. Keep Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles knows what a bad idea looks like, but he can't help himself.

“Nooooo,” Stiles yelled. He threw himself back on the couch and tossed the controller aside. “I swear Crash Bandicoot used to be fun?” he complained, grabbing and handful of chips while Scott reloaded the level.   
“It’s still fun!” Scott said, “It’s nostalgic. You’re just bad,” he poked out his tongue, his attention already focused on the level.   
“What,” Stiles spluttered, “I am not bad! I’m just not obsessed with it like you, because I actually have a life-,”   
He cut off as his phone rang.   
“Oh yeah, a life and a secret girlfriend,” Scott said, laughing.   
“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I don’t have a secret girlfriend,” Stiles said. 

But he got up and walked into his room before he answered. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning on his door.   
“Hey,” Derek said, softly, on the other end. 

Stiles definitely didn’t have a secret girlfriend. 

“How’re you going?” Derek asked, and honestly, who’s voice sounded that good on the phone?   
“Not too bad,” Stiles said, “I’m just uh, playing an annoying video game with my friend.”   
“Oh- do you want to go? I didn’t mean to interrupt-,”  
“No, no, no,” Stiles said, “you gave me an excuse to leave. What are you up to?”   
“I’m on my lunch break,” Derek said.  
“Are you actually eating?” Stiles asked, mock stern.   
Derek laughed, and Stiles shivered. “I’m just finishing up some work, but I’ll probably go and get a bagel or something after, is that okay with you?”  
“Yeah, yeah I suppose,” Stiles said. He could feel the big, stupid smile on his face, and was glad he was alone.   
“Anyway, I was calling to see if you’re free Friday?” Derek said.   
He sounded just a little nervous. He always sounded nervous when he called Stiles, which Stiles should have of course discouraged, but which he didn’t, because he liked it.   
Stiles hummed and wandered across the room. It was only Tuesday, so Friday should still be free, but he’d check anyway. He flipped through his planner.   
“I am, in fact, free on Friday,” he said.   
“Great,” Derek sounded relieved, “I’ll pick you up at about 7?”   
“That sounds great,” Stiles said, a little low and soft.   
“I’ll message your manager, of course,” Derek said. 

Stiles almost flinched. God, he made it so easy to forget that he was a customer. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, “thanks.”   
“I’ll see you Friday,” Derek said, and Stiles could hear the smile in his voice. The knot in his chest loosened, just a little.   
“I’ll see you Friday,” he said. 

 

Derek had driven Stiles home the morning after their first appointment, after they woke up together, naked, in the soft light of Derek’s room. After they sleepily touched and kissed and pushed each other over the edge. After Derek cooked him breakfast, of all things. Stiles had never had an actual date cook him breakfast, but there was Derek, still sleep-tousled, making frittata and great coffee in his beautiful kitchen. Then he had driven Stiles home- well, to the building a couple of blocks from Stiles’ home, and given him double the amount the initial appointment was, for staying over. 

And Stiles had given him his number. 

It was so unprofessional, he had immediately regretted it, wanted to take it back so Derek wouldn’t call him and make him smile like that. A part of him hoped Derek would never call. 

But of course, he had. And he kept calling, at least once a week, making or confirming appointments they had a few times a month. He then had to message Stiles’ manager, because customers weren’t supposed to have his private number because, uh, that was super unprofessional, but Stiles also didn’t want to be making appointments behind her back, even if they felt less like appointments and more like dates.   
It had been three months. Stiles was on break from college for summer, and that meant he had more time for work, which he needed, and more time for Derek, which he didn’t. 

He sighed and sat on his bed. The envelope Derek had given him on their first appointment sat on his bedside table- empty of money, of course, but he had kept the envelope. Not even thinkingly, but every time he tidied, collected the rubbish that accumulated on and around his bed, he passed over it. Once or twice he had picked it up, studied the thick stock of the paper, the only crease in it the one he had put in it when he put it away. He wondered, if he didn’t know Derek, what he’d made of someone who used an envelope like this. 

Comes from money, he thought. It was expensive, and for just paying someone, surprisingly nice. It was the kind of envelope you bought special, unless you were used to using them, because they were the more expensive ones, and so (in your mind) the better ones. Unmarked, because he was clean, meticulous. Unsure of himself, maybe. What did you write on an envelope full of money for a hooker? Unfolded, even though it would have barely fit in his pocket like so, because he liked things to look nice, to look uncrumpled, at least on the surface. He was a bit of a control freak, maybe. 

Or he had just picked it up on his way out of work, and didn’t have time to write anything, and he had big pockets. 

Stiles stayed there, sitting, for a minute, before he went back to Scott.   
“So how was your girl-,” Scott started to say, glancing at Stiles. He paused when he saw his face, “are you alright, man?” he said, suddenly concerned. He paused the game.   
“Yeah, it was just work,” he said flopping down on the couch.   
Scott didn’t know the exact nature of Stiles’ work. He was a bartender, so his hours and Stiles’ often overlapped, so he didn’t know exactly how often Stiles worked, or for how long. Most of what he knew was that he didn’t know, that Stiles didn’t tell him, so he didn’t ask.   
“Are you sure?” Scott asked, “you just kinda look like you’ve been dumped or something.”  
Stiles forced a smile, “Nah, I just had to cancel a date with my secret girlfriend, Natalie Portman, because she got an audition to play Coco in the live-action Crash Bandicoot movie,” he said.   
Scott laughed. “I’m sure she’ll crush it,” he said, turning the game back on, “I’ve gotten one game over so far, so it’s your turn next.” 

 

Friday came too fast, and agonisingly slowly. 

Stiles met Derek at the door of his fake apartment, grinned as he opened the door as Derek went to hit the buzzer. Derek wore what Stiles had come to realise was his standard work outfit, a henley and jacket and black jeans.   
“You are the most punctual person I’ve ever met,” Stiles said, shaking his head, as they climbed into Derek’s car.   
“You know, you’re always waiting there for me when I arrive,” Derek pointed out, “you’re as punctual as I am.”   
“No, no, that’s different, I’m early because of crushing anxiety,” Stiles said, “that doesn’t allow me to be late.”   
Derek laughed and Stiles grinned. 

In the elevator on the way to his apartment, Derek crowded Stiles against the mirror, hands braced on either side of him, kissing him, slightly nipping his bottom lip, kissing under his jaw and behind his ear. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, pressed into him. 

“I missed you,” Derek sighed into Stiles’ neck, “I’ve been thinking about you all week.” 

Stiles didn’t reply, just kissed Derek again, hard enough that he could feel his teeth, pulling him as close as he could. He wanted to ask, “have you been thinking about me all week, or just about this?” 

He didn’t.

No-one else got on, and they stumbled into Derek’s apartment, hands and mouths still all over each other, shedding clothes almost before the door was closed.   
“Do you,” Derek paused as Stiles kissed his neck and palmed his cock through his pants, “do you want a drink?”   
“No,” Stiles said, pushing Derek’s jacket off his shoulders and to the ground.   
“Oh, good,” Derek said.   
They made it to the couch, almost falling onto it, and Stiles climbed onto Derek lap, kissing him deeply, Derek already fumbling with his pants. He freed Stiles’ cock and Stiles tilted his head back as he wrapped a hand around it. Derek took advantage of more of Stiles’ neck being exposed to suck a spot at the base of his throat, to which Stiles replied by grinding his ass into Derek’s cock. Derek’s hand tightened and he sucked even harder. Stiles shuddered. God, Derek turned him on so much. The sex was so good, it was like they were always on the same wavelength, it was so unfair. 

Derek tried to pull Stiles’ pants down further without success.   
“Hang on, hang on,” Stiles said, standing up. He pulled his jeans down and kicked off his shoes and socks and Derek tugged his own off as well.   
“Come here,” Derek said, pulling him closer, his hands on Stiles’ hips, his voice husky.  
Stiles let him pull him closer, gasped as Derek wrapped his mouth around Stiles’ cock. He ran his hands through Derek’s thick hair as Derek swallowed him down, mouth tight and hot around him. 

After a minute he pulled off with a slight noise and tugged Stiles back onto his lap. Stiles kissed him, the ever so slight taste of his own cock in Derek’s mouth.   
“Do you have lube?” Derek asked, pulling away and looking up at Stiles. Stiles grinded down slightly, their cocks pressing together, and Derek inhaled sharply. Then he reached over the side of the couc to his bag and pulled out his lube. He grabbed a couple of condoms too, showed them to Derek, who nodded. He them to Derek, who immediately opened a condom and rolled it onto his own cock and put a little lube on both his cock and the fingers of one hand. He kissed Stiles again and reached behind him, finding his hole easily- with practice, Stiles thought a little wryly- and rubbing it with two slick fingers. Stiles moaned, his head dropping onto Derek’s shoulder. 

“Do you like that?” Derek murmured in his ear, his fingers just pressing, massaging, teasing.   
“Yes,” Stiles gasped, “fuck, it’s so good, you’re so good at that, I-,” he cut off with a moan as Derek slipped just the tip of his finger inside Stiles. He was an expert at teasing, giving just enough to heighten and heighten, never too much for too long, and he kept the pressure on Stiles, one finger slipping inside him, curling it a little, just brushing against Stiles’ prostate. Stiles held his hands on the back of the couch, holding himself up so he didn’t collapse, and he rocked against Derek a little, trying to control his movements and not quite succeeding.   
“Do you want more?” Derek said, teasing slightly.   
“Yes, yes, yes,” Stiles gasped, pressing back slightly, “please. Please, Derek.”   
At his own name, Derek added a second finger, and not long after a third. He was done teasing now, right as Stiles felt like he was going to shatter under the weight of his desire, he took his fingers out and guided Stiles’ hips down, slowly pushing his cock inside. 

Stiles was almost completely still, the feeling of Derek’s cock just slightly stretching him filling his whole body. Derek moaned beneath him and Stiles smiled, coming back to himself a little. He rocked his hips and Derek swallowed and bit his lip. He lifted himself a little and ground back onto Derek. Derek swore. Still holding Stiles’ hips, his fingertips digging in, he pulled him down onto him, guided him up, and pulled him down again. For a few minutes they were quiet, the only sounds their quiet gasps and moans and the sound of their bodies moving together. 

Derek started moving faster, a little erratically, and Stiles took over a bit more, rocking on Derek’s cock. Derek’s fingers tightened and he pulled Stiles’ down, hard, once more, and shuddered, then he stilled.   
“Fuck,” he said, his head tilted back on the couch, eyes closed. Stiles grinned, twisted his hips a little and Derek grunted. He slowly let go of Stiles’ hips, opened his eyes and looked down at him.   
“That might bruise,” he said, making a face.   
Stiles glanced down, noticing for the first time that his hips ached a little. He hummed.   
“Maybe,” he said, “I don’t mind though.”  
He kissed him and went to get off. 

“Wait,” Derek said, hand gently on his hip again, “I want to take care of you.”   
“You really don’t have to-,” Stiles said, but Derek was already wrapping his hand around Stiles. Stiles hissed and bucked into his hand. The feeling of Derek inside him with his hand around him was almost too much, but not quite. Almost too soon he managed to gasp that he was about to come, and then he did, making a mess on both of them, although mostly on Derek.   
Derek smiled at him, his eyes half hooded, and relaxed back on the couch. 

Stiles sighed and sat back, then slowly raised himself up. Derek made a small noise of protest as he slipped out of Stiles, but let him take off his condom and clean them up. He watched him sleepily the whole time.   
Then Stiles stood straight and stretched. Derek watched him intently and Stiles’ grinned at him.   
“You’re definitely going to have marks,” he said, “also I think one on your throat. Sorry.”   
He looked a little sheepish. Stiles touched his throat, and could feel a slight sore spot.   
“It’s alright,” he said, sitting back down, next to Derek this time, “nothing a little make-up can’t cover.” 

“You have make-up?” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is it- uh.”   
Stiles frowned, tilted his head. “It’s okay, what’s up?”   
“No, it’s silly, I was just going to ask, you know- is it your girlfriend’s but that’s not really an appropriate question, I know, so you don’t have to-,”   
“It’s mine,” Stiles said, smiling softly. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or like, husband or wife or partner of any kind. I just like having it, and when I get a bruise or a hickey it comes in handy.” 

He winked and smiled, but inside he felt nervous. Gotta stay inside the lines, Stiles. Stop giving information customers don’t have any right to. The standard answer if they ask about a partner is “it doesn’t matter, it’s just us here right now.”   
They don’t all like it, but it sets boundaries. Doesn’t let them feel too possessive of you. 

But Stiles wanted Derek to feel possessive of him, and he knew it. 

Instead he kissed him and pulled on his pants.   
“Do you want a backrub?” he asked. 

Stiles didn’t stay the night that time. He tried not to, as often as he could, but sometimes his impulsivity got the better of him. He gave Derek a backrub, then they showered together and Stiles blew him against the window to his bedroom, let Derek come on his chest. Let Derek wash him, soaping him up tenderly, and washing his hair. Sometimes he was like this, impossibly tender and caring, especially after they fucked. 

He asked Stiles to stay. When they weren’t in bed together when he asked it made it easier to say no. 

“I have a thing, early in the morning,” he said, shaking his head.   
Derek looked dejected, but didn’t argue. Stiles called a cab.   
“I can drive you,” Derek said, like he always did.  
“I know,” Stiles said, and kissed him. Derek still wore just a towel, but Stiles had collected his clothes and was dressed.   
“I’ll take you to the lobby, at least,” Derek said.   
“Okay,” Stiles smiled, he felt soft and sad. He wished he was staying. 

The lobby was as beautiful as the rest of the building, and the woman at reception greeted Derek and didn’t blink at Stiles. 

Somewhere, Stiles wondered if Derek brought a lot of guys home. 

The cab came, and Derek leaned in to kiss Stiles, then hesitated. Stiles kissed him, and climbed in. Derek leaned in before Stiles closed the door and gave the driver a $50 note.   
“I’ll give you a call in a few days?” he asked. 

Stiles nodded. They pulled away and Stiles watched Derek watch them from the curb. 

“Hey, I actually put the address in wrong when I ordered,” he said to the driver. He gave the driver his real address.   
“Keep the change,” he said, when they pulled up. It was well over half the amount, but the cabby shrugged. 

Stiles went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add more! This is obviously not the end, I'm hoping to have one more chapter after this, but it might be two.  
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Can I Call?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something a little different (Derek's POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for this chapter: Near the end there's discussion of spousal abuse, including sexual assault. It's not graphically described, but it is there.

Derek pulled out his phone, looked at it, then put it away. He glanced at the clock. He only had ten minutes of his lunch break left. Not that anyone was watching when he came back from lunch. Or rather, started working again, since he didn’t leave the library. 

He pulled out his phone again, scrolled to “Max”, and hesitated.  
Finally he hit call.  
It rang a few times before he heard his voice.  
“Hi there,” Max said. Derek smiled, and glanced around the empty room.  
“Hey,” he said. “So I was thinking-,”  
“You were thinking?” he said, “should I be worried? Does your head hurt now?”  
Derek laughed. “I know we have a- an appointment for Friday-,”  
It had become regular, once every two weeks. Derek wished it was every week, twice a week. More. He wished he could see him every day. He’d be happy to pay anything.  
“- I was wondering if you wanted to do something different?”

“Do you want to do something different?” Max asked, “like what?”  
“I don’t know. Go out, maybe?”  
“Like to a restaurant?”  
“Hm. Maybe. Maybe something a bit more… fun?”  
“Fun?” he could just about hear Max’s smirk. “Like a club?”  
A cold shiver ran down Derek’s spine. He hadn’t been to a club since- not in a long time. But he had to, at some point, right? He had to get over her, over what had happened.  
“Y- yeah,” he swallowed. “Yeah. A club. That sounds good.”  
“Are you sure?” he sounded concerned. He could always read Derek so easily.  
“Yeah, it’s just been a while. Do you know any good places?”  
Max hummed, and Derek could hear him moving around, hear someone else’s voice distantly in the background. But he’d said he doesn’t have a partner. 

He rolled his eyes at himself. He could be out, or he could have roommates or be with a friend. He was so possessive, it was embarrassing. He worked hard to tamp it down. 

“How about Lynx?” Max said, “it’s pretty good there, usually. It’s a gay bar- is that okay?”  
Derek relaxed a little. She’d never gone to a gay bar with him.  
“Yeah, that sounds great,” he said.  
“Cool! We should probably meet up later then, is that okay? It won’t cut into your time or anything.”  
“Yeah, that’s all good. What time?”  
“Ten?”  
Derek blinked. That was late.  
“There won’t be much happening there before then, but I’m happy to go earlier if you want?”  
“No, no, ten is fine. Give me time to… get ready?”  
Max laughed. “You don’t have to wear anything special,” he said.  
“Are you going to wear something special?” Derek asked, voice dropping a little.  
“Would you like me to?” Max asked, teasing.  
Derek blushed. “If- if you want,” he said. Why did talking to him still make him nervous? They’d been seeing each other- meeting? Having appointments? Derek didn’t know what to call it- for about four months, and still, every time he called he felt nervous, like he was asking someone out for the first time.  
“I’ll see what I can do,” Max said, voice low and teasing. Derek shivered, a very different type than the last, one that he felt in every part of his body- although more specifically one part.  
“I’ll see you Friday,” he said, face warm.  
“See you Friday,” Max said.  
The line went dead and Derek sighed and looked at the high ceiling. 

 

He went home Friday and dug through his closet for a half an hour before he gave up and called a friend.  
“Yeah?” Erica answered.  
Derek rolled his eyes. “That’s a very rude way to answer the phone, you know. I could be anyone.”  
“Except I have caller ID and I know you aren’t,” she said, “you’re not my boss anymore dude. What’s up?”  
Derek sighed. “What do you wear to a club?” he asked.  
“You’re going clubbing? I can’t believe you didn’t invite me! Wait, is it a date? Oh my god, of course it’s a date, nothing else could have gotten you out. How long have you been dating?”  
“It’s- it’s not a date,” Derek said, frowning, “it’s complicated. Just help me pick what to wear.”  
Erica sighed, “Okay, what kind of club is it?”  
“Uhh, I don’t really know. It’s called Lynx?”  
“Oh, I know Lynx, I went there with Isaac when he was too nervous to be out on his own. It’s pretty trendy, but not obnoxiously so. Honestly your work outfit would be fine there, you look fine as hell in that.”  
“That’s not necessary,” Derek rolled his eyes. “But I did want to wear something a bit- special.”  
“Okay then. In that case go for a white v-neck shirt and your leather jacket, and tight jeans. Jackets at clubs are a pain, but it’ll be worth it, and your bike boots. Are you picking up your it’s-complicated-date?”  
“No, we’re meeting there,” he said, “I’m going to get a car, so I can have a couple of drinks.”  
“Ooh ‘get a car’, Richie Rich,” Erica mocked.  
Derek rolled his eyes. “Okay, thank you Erica, do not come to the club to try and get a glimpse of us.”  
Erica sighed, “You know me so well,” she said, pout in her voice.  
“Too well,” he said, dryly.  
“Okay, bye!” she said, “Have fun!”  
He took out his white v-neck and frowned at it. 

 

Lynx had a line out the front and he hesitated when he got out of the car. His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. It was a text from Max.

Hey! I can see you ;) I’m in line.

He looked around and saw him, near the front, waving. He swallowed, adjusted his jacket, and walked to him. 

“Hey!” Max said. They were close enough to the front and the music pouring out the entrance that he had to raise his voice slightly. “You look great!”  
Derek’s mouth was dry. He stared at Max. He was wearing almost incredibly tight black pants and a dark green shirt that drew attention to his brown eyes and long lashes. Derek drew close, touched his cheek.  
“Are you wearing eyeshadow?” he asked, a small smile on his face.  
Max fluttered his eyelashes. His eyelids were sparkly and green.  
“Wanted to looked special for you,” he said, grinning at him.  
Derek drew close, kissed him lightly. Max sighed and pressed into him a little. Someone behind them coughed and Derek broke the kiss. The line had moved and they were holding it up.  
“Sorry!” Max laughed, taking Derek’s hand and moving them forward. He didn’t let go when they stopped and Derek glanced down. He was wearing nail polish, too. He smiled to himself.  
Derek paid their admission, and they went in. Inside, the music was almost oppressively loud and Derek almost instinctively drew closer to Max, who moved confidently through the space.  
“Drink?” he called back at Derek. Derek nodded.

His stomach felt tight, from more than just nerves. The club looked nothing like the ones she used to take him to, not really. Those had little rooms on every side, people in little to no clothes, holding leather saps and leering at him-  
He shook his head, trying to clear it. The music here was loud, sure, but it was basically one big room, there was an upstairs balcony, but nowhere secluded. He glanced at Max, at how his pants hugged his ass, and he thought that maybe a secluded spot or two wouldn’t be Too bad. 

“What would you like?” Max called.

They’d gotten to the bar while Derek was lost inside his head. 

“Uh, a mojito?” he yelled.  
“Sounds good, make it two,” Max said to the bartender, who nodded and winked at them.  
Max turned to Derek and leaned against the bar, looking him up and down. He beckoned to him and Derek leaned in close.  
“I love you in white,” he said, into his ear. Derek swallowed and grinned. He touched Max’s hip and leaned in to kiss him. 

“Hey!” someone yelled behind them, “Stiles!” 

Max jerked back and looked over Derek’s shoulder, frowning.  
Derek blinked, stepped back from Max.  
“Hey, Heather,” Max said, just audible. He glanced at Derek and back to the girl, a pretty blonde in a tight dress. “What are you doing here?”  
“Oh me and the girls love it here,” she giggled, “none of the guys hit on us. What about you? I didn’t realise you were- you know,” she said, looking at Derek.  
“Well,” he said flatly, “I am.”  
“Who’s this?” she asked, eyes still taking in Derek.  
The bartender put their drinks on the counter and Derek turned to pay, swiping his credit card. He didn’t hear what Max replied to the girl, but when he turned back with the drinks she said, “Well, I guess I’ll see you next semester!”  
She wandered off, tottering a little on heels that were too high for her.  
Derek watched her with a frown and Max sighed. 

“Stiles?” Derek asked.  
“Do you want to sit?” was all he replied.  
Derek nodded, and Max- Max?- took his hand, leading them around the edge of the dance floor to some booths. He slid in and Derek followed. The acoustics there were interesting, the music got quiet enough that they could actually talk. 

Derek took a sip of his drink and waited. 

“Max is my work name,” Max said finally.  
Derek felt somehow- betrayed, he supposed. He knew what their arrangement was. But he liked to ignore it as often as he could. Any time he was reminded of it was uncomfortable, almost painful.  
“Stiles is your real name?” he asked.  
“It’s my real nickname.” He shrugged and took a drink. “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” 

Derek didn’t know. 

“Hey,” Max- Stiles? slid closer to Derek, touched his leg, “it’s just a name. Stiles isn’t my real name either.”  
“What is?” Derek asked before he could help himself, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”  
“It’s okay. It’s unpronounceable anyway, my mother was Polish,” he shook his head, took another drink. It was half gone already.  
“So, what should I call you?” he asked. “It feels… weird, to call you a name that I know is fake.”  
“You can call me Stiles,” he said, a small, soft smile on his face.  
Derek hummed. “It suits you, more than Max,” he said.  
Stiles smiled wider, moved closer, touched his face, gently turning it to face him, and kissed him. He tasted minty and sweet.  
“Did she say she’d see you next semester?” he asked, frowning, when they broke. Stiles laughed.  
“I’m a student, too. I’m in college.”  
“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have asked, I know your privacy is important-,”  
Stiles shook his head. “It’s fine, it just never came up. So long as you don’t want my timetable or anything it’s not an issue.”  
“Stiles,” Derek said quietly, tasting his name.  
Stiles smiled at him. The unpleasant feeling in Derek’s stomach faded.  
“I need another drink,” Stiles said, “then do you want to dance?”  
Derek nodded and downed the rest of his drink. 

 

On the dancefloor Stiles danced indecently closed to him, pulling their hips together, touching Derek’s chest. He wasn’t a great dancer, exactly, but he was enthusiastic and he moved with the rhythm, but honestly when he danced facing away from Derek, his back pressed against Derek’s chest, his ass against his crotch, his dancing really didn’t seem to matter. Stiles reached over his shoulder, touched Derek’s shoulder, his hair, then turned his face to kiss him. Derek, as he so often did, found himself lost in Stiles’ mouth. The tiny flicks of his tongue, the way he occasionally deepened the kiss, then drew back, nipped Derek’s bottom lip. He was, without a doubt, the best kisser Derek had ever been with. 

Actually, everything he did with his mouth was the best Derek had ever had. 

He realised they had pretty much stopped dancing, were just kissing, his arm around Stiles’ waist, Stiles still swaying just enough that his ass was grinding against Derek’s crotch. Reluctantly, he pulled away a little and Stiles stepped away and turned around, looked at him and tilted his head.  
“All good?” he called.  
Derek pulled him close. “I’m good,” he said, right in his ear, “but if we kept doing that everyone in this place was going to know just how much I was enjoying it.”  
Stiles grinned at him, mischievous, and pressed close, close enough that he could feel how hard Derek was, and that Derek could feel that he was too. Stiles kissed him, then pulled away.  
“Do you want another drink?” he asked, fanning himself a little.  
Derek nodded. 

What must have been the next couple of hours passed in a blur, getting a little more blurry as the drinks kept flowing. Derek didn’t really drink very often, not more than a vodka or two when he was stressed, and the cocktails hit him hard. As he got drunker it got harder to keep his hands to himself appropriately, and this seemed to egg on Stiles as well. 

They’d been in a booth for a little while, just making out, Stiles half in his lap, when a bouncer drifted over.  
“Come on guys,” she called, “no-one wanted to clean come off of these things. Keep it clean.”  
Derek blushed but Stiles just laughed, open mouth and loud, and he climbed off Derek and slid out, tugging on Derek’s hand.  
“Let’s dance,” he yelled.  
The bouncer shook her head, but just looked bemused and moved off. Derek was surprised to hear a cheesy 80’s hit on the speakers, breaking up what had seemed to be one continuous techno song. 

“I love this song!” Stiles bounced, taking both of Derek’s hands. He shook his head and shimmied, and Derek laughed and danced along, although maybe a little less exuberantly. He twirled Stiles who laughed again, delightedly. Encouraged, Derek pulled him a little closer, spun him out and pulled him in, his arm wrapped around him. Stiles grinned and swapped hands, doing the same in the other direction and twirling again. As the song drew to a close Derek dramatically dipped him and Stiles’ back arched so much his head almost hit the ground. He pulled him up, close, and Stiles kissed him, sweetly, mouth closed and hand on Derek’s cheek. 

“Let’s go home,” Stiles said, smiling up at him.  
“My home?” Derek asked.  
Stiles nodded. “If that’s what you want?”  
Derek nodded, quickly sending a text to his car guy. “There’ll be a car here in five,” he said.  
Stiles pulled him close, murmured in his ear. “That’s almost a shame, you’ve never taken me up on that whole fucking me in an alley thing.”  
Derek swallowed, his cock throbbing, the image of Stiles up against a wall, his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist flashing in his mind.  
“Next time,” he said, nodding vigorously. Stiles laughed again. Derek had never seen him laugh so much, or so exuberantly.  
By the time they fought their way through the crowd the car was waiting for them in the street and they piled into the back seat together, limbs tangling together, giggling.  
Bless his heart, Derek’s driver didn’t blink at him bringing a beautiful boy in too-tight pants with him.  
“Home, sir?” he asked, eyes forward.  
“Yes please,” Derek said, barely containing a laugh as Stiles mouthed ‘sir’ at him and made a face. 

In the elevator Stiles pushed him up against a wall and kissed him hard. His hair was messy and his make-up was slightly smudged and Derek swore he’d never seen anyone look better.  
Stiles pulled away and looked around the elevator for a second.  
“You know,” he said, “no-one else ever gets in. Do you own the whole building or something? You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you!”  
Derek just laughed and shook his head. “No-one else would be going up,” he said, “the gym and pool you take a different elevator for, one on the other side.”  
“So we’ve never been in any danger of getting walked in on?” Stiles said, mouth open.  
Derek laughed again, “No, not unless someone was visiting a friend on another level, which seems pretty unlikely,” he lowered his voice, “the people who live here are kind of snobs,” he said.  
“That’s definitely been my experience,” Stiles said, hands on Derek’s chest. “So if I wanted to, I could blow you right here and now?” he said, pressing against him.  
“Well,” Derek inhaled sharply as Stiles’ hip pressed against him. The doors dinged and opened. “It’s not a very long trip,” he finished. He pulled Stiles out, tugging on both his hands, “also I think there’s a camera.”  
Stiles kissed him against his door. “We’ll give them a show,” he said, grinning.  
Derek pulled him close by the hips, grinding against him. Stiles gasped and went a little limp in his grip.  
“Fuck, Derek,” he said, breathless, “everything you do feels so good.”  
Derek finally managed to swipe his door card and they fell inside.  
“What- what do you want to do,” Stiles asked, pressing close to Derek. He was so much less controlled than he normally was, Derek realised. He seemed almost desperate, his hands and mouth always on him, every touch answered with a whimper or a moan.  
Derek hummed. “I think,” he said, biting his lip, “you’ve never come in my mouth, have you? After all this time,” he shook his head and kissed him, licking into his mouth. Stiles shuddered against him, his hips bucking already.  
“I-,” he was breathless, he bit his lip, “No, I should- I should take care of you-,” he said. Derek kissed his neck, sucking lightly and Stiles whimpered.  
“Come on,” Derek said. He pulled him into his room and undressed him, pulled his shirt off over his head, peeled off his pants.  
“These are ridiculous, by the way,” he said, pushing Stiles against the bed and dropping to his knees. His cock was ridiculously hard, and Derek just barely touched the tip with his tongue.  
Stiles made a noise, half moan, half plea.  
Derek sunk down on Stiles’ cock, taking as much of it as he could into his mouth. He wrapped his hand around its base, which made up the inch or two he couldn’t quite manage. He ran his other hand up Stiles’ thigh and played with his balls while he sucked. He did love giving blow jobs. Stiles had both hands in Derek’s hair, not pulling or holding him, just running through it. Derek licked up the underside as he pulled off, flicked the tip with his tongue- something he’d learnt because of how much he loved Stiles doing it- and sunk back down.  
Stiles moaned and spoke almost without stopping, a constant stream of “oh god, fuck, Derek, yes- oooh god, yes, I, fuck, fuck, yes-”  
Derek got so focused on listening to him that he almost missed when Stiles’ hands tightened in his hair and him arching, thrusting a little deeper into Derek’s mouth.  
He was loud when he came, almost shouting, louder than he normally was. Derek swallowed his come and stilled for a moment before he pulled off. He looked up at Stiles, who was totally naked, face and chest flushed, his breath heaving. Stiles looked down at Derek and a slow grin spread across his face.  
Derek licked his lips and Stiles laughed and sat down on the bed, laying down from there.  
“Oh my god,” he said.  
Derek stood and grinned at him. He felt a little dizzy, still a bit drunk- although not as much as Stiles, he guessed. 

“I’m gonna get some water,” he said, looking down at him, “do you want some?”  
Stiles nodded and yawned.  
Derek went and poured two glasses of cold water, draining one and refilling it. When he got back into the room, Stiles had kicked his pants all the way off and was under the covers.  
“It’s cold!” he protested when Derek smirked at him. Derek handed him the water and Stiles took a sip and put it down on the bedside table.  
“Come on,” Stiles said, smiling sleepily, “hop in.”  
Derek stripped down to his briefs and went to get in, but Stiles pouted and tugged on them, so he took those off too. He drank some more water and put it down, wriggling under the covers.  
Stiles yawned and reached for Derek, touching his hip and running a hand across his cock, which had softened a bit.  
“What-,” he paused to yawn, “what- do you want to do?” he asked.  
Derek shook his head and touched Stiles’ face. “Nothing right now,” he said, “let’s just lie here.”  
Stiles nodded and shuffled closer to Derek, skin against skin. Derek felt himself stir but he sternly willed his cock not to respond. Stiles was so sleepy, he didn’t want to do anything when he was like that, but he knew if he started to get hard Stiles would force himself to wake up.  
“I’m not a librarian, you know,” he said, suddenly. He didn’t know what made him think of it, except maybe that work was one of the best ways to stop erections.  
“Hmm?” Stiles said, eyes barely open.  
“You call me a librarian all the time, but I’m not. I’m a historian. That’s my title, anyway,” he said.  
“But you work at a library,” Stiles smiled.  
“So does a janitor,” Derek said, “doesn’t make them a librarian.”  
“You’ve had this argument before, haven’t you?”  
Derek chuckled. “Yeah, my sisters and cousins and nieces and nephews, a group of interns we had in last year. Basically every new person I meet.”  
“You’ve got a big family?” Stiles asked.  
Derek nodded. “Three sisters, two brothers. Grew up with my aunt and uncle living with us, they’ve got got kids, that was like having another three siblings. Now a couple of them have kids. My little sister’s pregnant right now,” he said.  
Stiles was smiling at him. “That sounds amazing,” he said, “I’m an only child. Just me and my dad. My mom died when I was a kid,” he paused, eyes sad for a moment, “dad was- is- a cop. The Sheriff, actually. That’s one of the reasons I’m studying criminology. I wanna work for the FBI. I used to always get into his files when I was a kid, tried to solve all his cases. Drove him crazy.”  
Derek grinned, “I bet. Sheriff is a pretty full-on job, isn’t it? Must have been lonely.”  
Stiles nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, it was. I was an awkward kid too, didn’t make friends very easily. Till I met Scott I pretty much just spent all my time alone. Course, once he was around we were always together.”  
“Together?” Derek asked, swallowing.  
Stiles yawned again, eyes drooping, “Brothers, basically,” he said. “He followed me here too,” he laughed and shook his head, “even studies at the same college as me.” 

Derek smiled. Stiles’ eyes closed slowly. He looked so soft, so lovely. 

“My family all live a few hours away,” he said, softly, no longer sure Stiles could hear him. “I came here for work, but I’d never been alone. It was- hard. Really hard. Most of my money comes from them, they own a big architectural firm- this is their building. The historian thing doesn’t actually pay much. But we all get a pretty- a pretty decent amount when we turn twenty-one. I bought my car then, and my bike. You haven’t seen the bike yet. I’ll have to take you for a ride some time.  
“So I was twenty-three, just graduated college and moved out here. I was on my own for the first time. I guess I fell in with some pretty bad people. Lots of drinking, and other stuff. I was mostly just around. I mean, I drank and partied a little but nothing- nothing serious,” he was talking to himself mostly, telling a story he’d never managed to tell out loud, looking at the ceiling.  
“It was through them that I met her. I don’t know if someone else had told her or if she could just tell I had money, I didn’t brag about it or anything. But I guess she knew. She was a bit older, I think she said twenty-nine? At first. Later I found out she was thirty-five. We dated for a while, she’d push me to- to do stuff I didn’t want to do. Make fun of me if I didn’t. I got my tattoo just after we got together and she hated it. She was so angry that I’d do it without telling her. She liked rough stuff in bed, liked to do it… to me... without asking. Without- without consent, I guess.” He was quiet for a minute, still thinking.  
“We went to kink clubs and stuff. I hated it. Hated being- watched while she-,” he broke off and took a breath. “Today was the first club I’ve been to since then. Anyway. We were together for- I think about 18 months. And then she tried to empty my bank accounts. Guess she got sick of me. Maybe twenty-five was too old for her,” he laughed bitterly.  
“But my family has restrictions on withdrawals, so we can’t do anything stupid like buy a racehorse or something without talking to them. My uncle is an accountant. He’s pretty particular about money. So she got caught, didn’t get anything. My family pressed charges. For the- the money stuff. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t- couldn’t believe that she’d do that, you know? I was- I thought I was in love with her. Maybe I was. She didn’t get any prison time, though. She came from a big important family, got a suspended sentence, some community service. My brother came and stayed with me for a while. I guess I started to realise that the stuff that happened was… not okay. I never really talked about it, though. And I didn’t date after that. No-one at all. Not till you.” 

He glanced at Stiles, who was watching him, dark eyes unreadable. He didn’t look so tired anymore.  
“I’m sorry,” Stiles said. He reached out, wiped a tear from Derek’s cheek. Derek didn’t remember crying.  
“It’s okay. It was two years ago. It’s okay,” he said, but his voice sounded rough, even to him. Stiles moved even closer, wrapped an arm around Derek’s shoulders.  
“It’s not,” he said, softly, “it’s not okay. But that’s alright. It doesn’t have to be.”  
Derek turned his face into Stiles’ chest and took a few deep breaths while Stiles stroked his hair.  
“Mieczyslaw,” Stiles said, after a little while, “that’s my real name. I still like Stiles better, though.”


	4. Don't Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they all fall down.

Stiles woke up before Derek, with a raging headache. He sat up with a wince and glanced at the other side of the bed where Derek still slept deeply. 

He needed to go. 

He’d done everything wrong. Gotten too attached. Let Derek get too attached. Gotten too drunk (what was he even doing drinking on the job?) and now- now, he had to leave and it was a shitty move but it was better than staying. 

He buried his head in his hands. Fuck. 

When he was first learning the ropes, he’d spoken to a lot of people who’d been in the job a long time. His manager was strict, wanted to make sure her workers could handle the job before she sent them out. 

One woman told him that one of the most important things was making sure that you never forgot the customer was a customer. They were people, just trying to live their lives, but if they start to expect more from you than you’re offering, you gotta nip it in the bud. Outside whatever fantasy they wanted, you didn’t let them forget who and what you were. You offered a service, you were happy to offer it, but you weren’t theirs- not ever. Not your body, and not your heart.   
“Every kid I’ve ever seen come through here secretly believes they’re gonna be Pretty Woman-ed out of their lives, but all that’ll leave you with is a broken heart. And if you break theirs? That’s on you.”   
He should have known. He did know, kind of. That was the worst thing. He knew something had happened to Derek, that it had changed him, made it harder for him. He knew from the start there was a reason that a gorgeous guy with money and no weird kinks was still paying for sex.   
But he was a gorgeous guy and he had no weird kinks and he’d been paying Stiles for great sex and Stiles had gotten stupid with it. 

Derek spinning him in the club to a dumb song kept playing in his head. He’d felt giddy, not just with the alcohol and sex, but just with- being with him. Being _himself_ with Derek and Derek not hating it. 

He left Derek’s money on the counter with a note and left.   
Blessedly, Scott wasn’t in when Stiles got home. He took some aspirin and went to sleep. 

 

He got a new work phone. Derek never tried to contact him, but every time it went off he wanted it to be him. He got a new one so he would know it wasn’t. Scott was quiet around him for a few days, then he decided that whatever had happened, it was time to stop dwelling. Any night they weren’t working they went out, met with friends, drank, or played bingo, or watched movies. Stiles kept working, kept saving money, stayed professional. It wasn’t necessarily harder, but Stiles felt- cold. He went through the motions, but everything felt like he was looking through a cloudy window. When college went back he lightened his workload and threw himself into study, but found the same results. He used to love looking at a case, figuring out the mind behind it, but nothing was the same. He couldn’t focus, not on anything, even after he increased his adhd meds. He put his head down, tried to deal with it on his own. Life went on. 

*

When Derek woke up, he went through a series of emotions. First, he registered that he was very thirsty and his head hurt and he was glad he’d had water before he went to sleep. Then he reached out for Max- no, he realised, Stiles. Mieczyslaw.   
And he found the bed empty.   
That hurt. But they hadn’t ever agreed on him staying the night, and then they’d gotten drunk, so he understood.   
When he found the money he was confused. He’d remembered to give it to Stiles, right? Yes. Before they even started drinking he’d given it to him. He remembered.   
And then he found the note, and he was hurt, again, and angry. 

“Derek-  
I’m sorry. I’m sorry to do this at all, but especially after last night. Please believe me when I say it’s not because of anything you said to me. But I think we’ve both forgotten what we are. You’re a customer, and I’m supposed to be providing a service. I failed on a lot of levels. 

So I quit. 

Please don’t contact me again, for both our sakes. 

I want what’s best for you, I swear. 

-S” 

Derek crumpled up the note, threw it out, then stared at the bin for five minutes trying to make himself not take it back out. He called Erica. 

Erica was there within the hour, and she sat down and Derek drank and told her everything.   
“Wait, sorry, back up,” she said, “you got a hooker?”   
Derek sighed, refilled his cup.   
“Yes. I hadn’t- I hadn’t even been on a date since, since-,”   
Erica nodded. She’d never heard the whole story, but she knew enough, especially after she’d become friends with Derek’s sisters.   
“I couldn’t force myself to date. Every time I liked someone I’d start to hate them, so I thought- why not just sex? Just start with sex and see what happens.”   
Erica thought about it, added ice to his glass, then nodded. “Makes sense,” she said, “it’s not a solution I’d expect you’d to come to, but it’s pragmatic.You may continue,” she said, waving a hand.   
“Except, he was… he was really smart?”   
“Are you saying prostitutes are dumb, because I feel like that’s pretty offensive,” Erica said.   
Derek sighed. “He was clever, and funny, and we’d hang out and it was just really easy.”  
“And the sex was good?”   
“So good,” he sighed. “I tried to forget that I was paying him, you know? We’d get the money stuff out of the way and then it was just us, and I felt like he felt the same way. And I guess he did, actually. Because now he’s gone. He said that- that we forgot what we were, and that he’d failed, and he quit.”   
“Did something bring that on? Like, was there some grand declaration of love or something?”   
“He told me his real name. I told him about Kate.”   
“He left after you told him about that?” Erica asked, her eyes narrowed.   
“Not- not right after. He slept the night. But when I woke up, he was gone. And he’d left the money from last night and a note.”   
Erica rumbled, her mouth set.   
“Show me the note,” she said. 

Derek took it out of his pocket. He’d failed to leave it in the bin while he waited for Erica to arrive. 

She read it, frowning.   
“Well, honey, I think you probably could have done better, and he definitely could have. But this is a shit-pile of a situation, and I’m glad you’re out of it. No more hookers, at least for a little bit.” 

She took a lighter from her pocket and lit up the note, letting the ashes fall on his glass coffee table. It was a testament to how much vodka he’d had that he didn’t try and stop her, at least out of fear for the carpet. 

“What now?” he said, quietly. He stared at the ashes on the table.   
“Now, you say- I’ve been through worse than this. A boy you liked broke up with you, and you’ll get over it, even if you feel like shit right now. You helped me when me and Isaac broke up, and I’ll help you. Today we wallow,” she refilled his glass, “do you want to tell me all the annoying things about him, or wax poetic about the wonderful things and cry?” she asked.   
“I don’t know,” Derek said mournfully, drinking. 

 

Once the initial period of mourning was over, Derek managed to get through the days without a drink. Erica dragged him out, and surprisingly, he enjoyed himself- sometimes. He kept working, got a new group of interns, who he told Erica were even more annoying than she had been, which she was deeply offended by. He got distracted, and he stopped thinking about Stiles, mostly. Although he had to replace his couch, and his bedspread and sheets. 

He went on a date with a nice girl who didn’t make him laugh, and he didn’t tell her he’d call. 

When it had been longer since they broke up (because that was what Derek was calling it) than they’d been together (because that was what Derek was calling it), Boyd had a birthday party. 

It was at a nice bar, and the music wasn’t too loud, and a lot of people came. Boyd was quiet and stoic, but he made friends in a way Derek could only watch with silent admiration. Derek had gotten there early and had a few beers already, when people started arriving in droves. They’d hired out the bar, and Derek was shocked by how fast it filled up. He quickly retreated to a corner to drink, occasionally waving at Erica who tried to beckon him over, shaking his head and pointing at his drink and then the pile of bags on the seat across from him. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was trying to convey, but Erica didn’t push it.   
Finally, she came to him, dragging a girl with her. She was very pretty, Derek thought, but he really hoped Erica wasn’t going to try and set him up.   
“Derek!” Erica said, “since you aren’t socialising, I brought some social to you. This is Allison, she’s an archeologist, and I think she likes old books too? I’m sorry Allison I’ve completely forgotten-,”  
“She hasn’t,” Derek said, “she’s also a huge nerd, she just likes to pretend.”   
“Anyway, she just got back from Jordan and has some very interesting things to say about books, and also her boyfriend is here so you don’t have to worry that I’m trying to set you up,” Erica said, rolling her eyes.   
She flounced off, and Allison laughed and slid into an empty seat. “Do you mind?” she asked, “I don’t actually know anyone here.”   
Derek gestured to the seat, “By all means,” he said, shaking his head. “Did you really just get back from Jordan?”   
“A couple of months back, yeah!” She said, her eyes alight, “I wasn’t with the original group, but I was helping clear the rest of the site, I actually got to see some of the metal bound books in person-,”

They spoke for a while about books, trading stories back and forth, until finally Allison shook her head.   
“I’m sorry, I’ve been rambling, I get so carried away. So how do you know- uh, Boyd, right?”  
“Yeah, Boyd. Erica, his girlfriend who dragged you over here, was my intern at the library last year. How about you?”   
“Very tangentially,” Allison smiled, showing off dimples, “he is sometimes a bouncer at a bar where my boyfriend bartends. I guess that got us all invites, and the invitation said free drinks, so we all came,” she laughed.   
“Yeah that’s quite the draw,” Derek said dryly.  
“Oh look,” Allison said, “there’s Scott now,” she waved at someone Derek couldn’t see, “he doesn’t know a thing about history I’m afraid, but he’s still okay.” 

Derek laughed, and a good-looking guy came over and looped an arm around Allison and kissed her cheek. They made a nice couple, Derek thought, with only a slight twinge. 

“Hey, I’m Scott,” he said, holding out a hand, which Derek shook, “I’m sorry I abandoned you for so long, honey, I was drawn into a game of beer pong.” He smiled wryly.   
“Did you at least win?” Allison asked.   
“Nah, you know Stiles is rubbish at it. He’s just getting some drinks and heading over,” he said nodding to the bar. 

Derek blinked. Then he blinked again. He frowned, and everything slowed down. 

He could hear Allison asking Scott why he always partnered with Stiles if he was so rubbish, but a roaring was filling his ears. 

“Sorry,” he said, blinking far too much. Way too much. “Did you say Stiles?” 

“That’s my name!” someone said from behind Derek, “don’t wear it-,” 

He entered Derek’s line of vision and froze. He held three drinks and they shook slightly and he put them on the table very carefully. 

“I’m going to. Go,” Stiles said. 

Then he turned and walked away. 

“What-,” Scott began, but Derek was already up, pushing through people, following him, his vision narrowing to just him, his back. 

He was out the door before Derek reached him. 

 

*

Stiles stepped into the cool night already shaking. He stared down at his hands, distantly surprised by how badly they shook. It wasn’t that cold. He started to walk away, just- away, he didn’t care in what direction he just had to be away from-

“Wait!” 

Derek’s voice sounded, not far behind him. Stiles stopped, shoulders hunched. He supposed he deserved this, didn’t he? After everything. Whatever Derek wanted to do or say, it couldn’t really be worse than what Stiles thought about himself so- he stopped walking. He waited. 

For a few long moments nothing happened. Then, from right behind him, Derek very softly said his name.   
Stiles turned around.   
And there he was. Still as beautiful as ever. Maybe more? His hair was shorter, he thought distantly, and his beard was an actual beard instead of stubble. It suited him. 

He reached out, just barely touched Stiles’ face, his eyebrows drawn. 

“Stiles,” he said again. “You look… awful.” 

Stiles pulled away, took a step back. He lost weight, and he was paler, and he knew he had dark circles under his eyes.   
“Thanks,” he said, bitterly, “and you look great, as always. Please can I go now?”   
“I-,” Derek looked hurt, and Stiles didn’t understand. “Why do you want to go?” Derek asked. 

Stiles felt a slightly hysterical laugh bubble up from his chest.   
“Why do I want to go?” he repeated, “why do you keep asking me to stay? I- I fucked everything up, Derek, I know and I know you must hate me and that’s, that’s fine,” his voice cracked. “That’s fine. I deserve that. I hate me too. But please, please, just let me go, I can’t-,” he took a deep, shuddering breath and brought his hands to his head, holding it tightly. His breath was coming too fast, his heart was beating too fast, everything was too much. 

“Hey,” Derek’s hands covered his and his voice was soft, “hey. You’re okay. You need to breathe, okay? I need you to breathe.”

Stiles tried. He took deep, shuddering breaths, and slowly the shaking subsided. Derek stayed with him, hands over his. 

“Why are you here?” Stiles asked, without looking up. He almost couldn’t believe Derek was right there, that he was touching him.   
“I- I know Boyd,” Derek said, “he’s-,”  
“No,” Stiles interrupted, “why are you _here_? With me? Why did you follow me?”

Derek didn’t say anything for a minute, and slowly he dropped his hands away from Stiles’. Stiles let his hands drop too, and he finally found the courage to look up at Derek. 

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Derek said, eyes impossibly soft, “I just- I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk to you.”

Stiles shook his head, kept shaking it. “I don’t- I don’t understand. Why? You should- you should hate me. You shouldn’t want to- to see me.”

Derek touched his cheek again, stopped his head shaking. 

“I didn’t think I wanted to see you either, until I did. And I think that you’re hating yourself enough for both of us right now,” he said. “I don’t hate you. I… I could never hate you.” 

Stiles looked up at him slowly. “I left you,” he said, “and I knew that I’d have to, from the first time I met you I knew I was going to get in too- too deep, and I still did. It’s- you should hate me.”  
“No,” Derek whispered, cupping Stiles’ face in both hands, “we just. I think we just weren’t ever meant to be…”  
Stiles froze, waiting.   
“To be professional,” Derek said, softly.   
“I wish I’d met you differently,” Stiles said, staring at him. Derek smiled sadly.   
“I don’t think I would have been able to… to fall for you, until I met you how we did,” he said, “if that makes sense.” He shook his head. “I think I’m probably going to kiss you now, if that’s okay with you?” 

Stiles licked his lips and nodded. 

Behind them, someone coughed. Stiles looked over Derek’s shoulder and found Scott, Allison, Erica, Boyd, and a collection of people who must have followed the group out standing at the bar’s entrance, watching them. Allison had a hand covering her mouth and looked politely away. Erica elbowed her.   
“This is Stiles? I get it now,” Erica called, “by all means, don’t stop on our account.” 

“Dudes,” Stiles said, “come on. You’ve ruined the moment completely.” 

Derek laughed, his hands still cupped on Stiles’ face, and Stiles laughed too. He leaned his forehead against Derek’s and they laughed helplessly. 

“Do you want to go?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded, and Stiles grabbed his hand and waved at the group. “Okay thank you for that, happy birthday Boyle, don’t come home tonight Scott!” 

He started down the street, pulling Derek behind him. 

“It’s Boyd!” Erica yelled. Stiles just waved a hand behind him. 

 

Stiles’ apartment was only a ten or so blocks from the bar, so they walked, although Derek protested, said he could call a car.   
“It’s really not far,” Stiles said, pulling him determinedly, walking fast.   
“Are you sure?” Derek asked, frowning.  
“Hm? Yeah of course, look- that’s it right there, it’s the building behind the green neon light.”  
“Did you move?”   
Stiles glanced over his shoulder. “No,” he said, unsure of himself, “I didn’t live in that other place. I couldn’t- you know-,”  
“Have customers know where you lived. I figured that was why you always met me in the lobby, but a whole different building makes sense,” Derek said, nodding.   
“Are you mad?”   
Derek smiled at him, soft. “I know- I knew what we were, Stiles. I’m not going to get mad at you for being safe while you do your job.”   
Stiles paused and stopped and looked at him and for a moment they were still and quiet, just looking at each other in the dim light. 

He took a deep breath.   
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s go.” 

Stiles let them into the lobby and hit the button for the elevator, dropping Derek’s hand in the process. Once they weren’t touching it felt- harder, to reinitiate. In the elevator they stood a little apart, not quite touching.   
“It’s not a nice as yours,” Stiles said, looking around it for the first time. Derek laughed.   
“I really don’t care about your elevator,” he said. “Do you know-,” he paused.   
“What?” Stiles glanced at him. Derek looked unsure, looked away.   
“I couldn’t take that elevator, not for months. I had to walk around to the other one, and that one doesn’t go all the way to my floor, so I’d walk the last five floors on the stairs,” he tried a smile, but he looked sad.   
“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, quiet.   
“I mean, it was great for my thighs,” Derek said, looking thoughtful.   
Stiles smiled wryly, pushed Derek’s shoulder a little, “Like they need the help,” he said, shaking his head. 

Finally, much more slowly than Derek’s elevator went despite it being a lower level, the elevator arrived and Stiles led Derek to his apartment. He paused at the door, key in hand, and glanced at Derek.   
“It’s not- it’s not as nice as yours,” he said, “and it’s kind of messy- god, especially my room, I totally forgot, maybe we should have just gone to your place-,”   
“Stiles,” Derek said, “let’s just go in. I really, really, really, _really_ don’t care.” 

Stiles took a deep breath, suddenly nervous, and nodded, opening the door. 

Inside he was all too aware of their old furniture, the mismatched dining chairs, the old brown couch, the dishes in the sink and chip packets on the coffee table. 

But Derek was only looking at him. 

“Do you, do you want a drink?” Stiles asked, glancing around, “I think we have… juice? Or water?”   
“I’m okay,” Derek said. “Are you nervous?”   
Stiles laughed, but couldn’t stop it from sounding nervous. “I- yeah. I guess I am. I’ve never had anyone here. And it’s you, and it’s me, and I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to-,” he took a deep breath. “I don’t know where to start.”

“You know, I think I’m less nervous with you than I’ve ever been,” Derek said, his eyes raking up and down Stiles. He licked his lips, then held out his hands. Stiles took them, their fingers entwining, and stepped in closer, into Derek’s space. He was acutely aware of every part of him that was touching Derek. Derek’s hands were warm and a little rough, as he drew Stiles in their legs brushed together, their hips just barely brushed, their stomachs and chests pressed together. It felt like electricity.   
For a long moment they just stood there in the dark kitchen, pressed together. Stiles could feel Derek’s breath in his chest, could just feel his heartbeat.   
Fuck it, Stiles thought. He let go of Derek’s hands and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, pulling him in the last inch or so, and then they were kissing and god, had it ever felt this good? Had it _always_ felt this good and he had just forgotten? 

Derek made a noise in his chest and pressed in harder, his tongue in Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles stopped being able to think. Derek’s hands ran down Stiles’ back and he shivered, breath already coming harder, as Derek cupped his ass, put his hands in Stiles’ jeans pockets and pulled him tighter, grinding them together. Stiles pressed forward with his hips, arching just a little, and Derek pushed him until his back hit the kitchen counter, then he broke the kiss, mouth wet, and lifted Stiles up onto the counter. 

Stiles made a small noise of surprise and then grinned, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist and pulling him in. Derek kissed the delicate skin behind his ear, trailed kisses down to the hinge of his jaw, and kept going, his hips a slow grind against Stiles. He sucked a spot on his neck, just above his shoulder, and Stiles moaned, tipped his head back further. Derek kept going and Stiles knew he was marking him on purpose, for the first time. The thought made him inhale and reach down, fumble with Derek’s fly.   
“God,” he breathed, “I need my hands on you, like, yesterday.”   
“Are you kidding?” Derek said, voice shaky with desire, “I needed your hands on me a year ago.” 

Stiles laughed and managed to thrust Derek’s pants low enough to free his cock, wrapping a hand around it. He closed his eyes for a moment, just the feeling of him in his hand almost overwhelming. Derek bit his neck, just slightly, as Stiles began to move his hand, and Stiles hissed. 

“Is that okay?” Derek asked, pulling away a little.   
Stiles tightened his grip a little, twisted his hand at the tip of Derek’s cock, and grinned when Derek grunted.   
“Fuck yes,” he said, tipping his head back again, baring his neck.   
Derek continued to bite, just little nips, along his neck, and got Stiles’ fly open too, pulling him out and then pressing forward again, his hand wrapped around Stiles, he pressed them together and they moved in unison, hips pushing slightly while their hands worked each other’s other cocks.   
“God, Stiles,” Derek bit out, “I could, I could come like this but- I want more, what-,” he inhaled sharply, “what do you want to do?” 

Stiles paused. Then he laughed and kissed Derek.   
“Usually it’s me asking that,” he said.   
“I know,” Derek said, kissing the side of his mouth. “What do you want, Stiles?” he murmured in his ear, “You want me to blow you right here? Fuck you up against a wall? I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Stiles groaned. “You make me lose my mind,” he said, burying a hand in Derek’s hair and kissed him again. 

“I want-,” he thought, a thousand possibilities running through his head, “I want you to ride me,” he said.   
Derek groaned. “Yes, yeah, that sounds- good. Have we ever done that before?”   
Stiles shook his head and kissed Derek. “I typically like being in control when my dick is in someone,” he said.   
“And also when it’s not,” Derek grinned, slightly biting the lobe of Stiles’ ear.   
“I-,” Stiles made a noise, “I don’t know what you mean. Come on, that’s my room,” he nodded his head towards a door off to one side. Derek pulled him close once more, pushing against him and kissing him, then stepped away with more than a little reluctance. 

Stiles hopped down and did his pants half back up, then led Derek to his room. It was messier than he remembered. He squinted at it.   
“I’ll just- just move the stuff off the bed,” he said, kneeling to push clothes and games and god knew what else onto the floor.   
Derek leaned on the doorframe and watched him.   
“It’s all good, the view is spectacular,” he said.   
Stiles glanced over his shoulder. He was on his hands and knees to reach the stuff on the far end and Derek smirked at him. He shook his head, the rose to his knees to pull of his hoodie and shirt and push his pants down, lying down to wriggle the rest of the way out of them. 

“Come here,” he said.   
Derek pulled off his clothes before he reached the bed, and climbed on totally naked. Stiles sighed at the sight of his body, drinking in the sight, one that he never thought he’d see again.   
Derek paused his climb up Stiles’ body to lick the tip of his cock, briefly take him into his mouth. Stiles groaned, let his head fall back and his eyes close, and felt Derek come to rest of the way to him, his body resting between Stiles’ legs. Their cocks pressed together, Stiles’ slightly slick with Derek’s saliva, and he pushed his hips up, the pressure making him moan and Derek bite his lip.   
“Come up more,” Stiles said, lying back a little while Derek climbed up further, his thighs straddling either side of Stiles’ chest. Stiles had lube on his bedside table and he squirted some on one hand and rose on one elbow to suck Derek’s beautiful cock into his mouth.   
“Fuck,” Derek breathed above him. He thrust a little, pushing his cock further into Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles hummed in approval. Derek groaned, buried his hand in Stiles’ hair and thrust down his throat. As he started to get a rhythm going Stiles reached around him, found his hole, and pressed his lubed fingers against it. Derek made an almost wounded noise, hips stuttering, and Stiles pressed one finger against him, letting it slip inside, and another a moment later. As he started to pump his fingers in and out of Derek ass, Derek managed to regain his rhythm, thrusting in sync with Stiles’ movements.   
When Stiles pushed a third finger inside he slowed, his breath heavy.   
“Okay,” he said, “okay, I want you inside me.”   
Stiles groaned around Derek’s cock and Derek shuddered, and slowly pulled away. He looked down at Stiles, his hair dishevelled, mouth wet and slightly swollen.   
“Condom?” he asked.   
“Top drawer,” Stiles said, lying back and licking his lips. 

Derek put the condom on Stiles and lubed him up, then, ever so slowly, sunk down on his cock. His hands were on Stiles’ chest and his head tipped back as he lowered himself. Stiles wanted to push his hips up, but he resisted, staying still while Derek bottomed out. Derek shifted his hands and one grazed over one of Stiles’ nipples and he made a small noise.   
Derek opened his eyes and looked down at Stiles, biting his lip and grinning. He rocked his hips and brushed his fingers slightly over Stiles’ nipple again and Stiles groaned, pushed up a little involuntarily. 

“Oh, that’s new,” Derek breathed.   
Stiles watched as he brought a thumb to his mouth, sucked it in, then returned to Stiles’ chest, rubbing his slick thumb over Stiles’ nipple as he began to rock.   
Stiles’ hands found Derek’s thighs, digging his fingertips in, and Derek rode him in earnest, finding the balance between too much and too little on Stiles’ nipples as he did, and Stiles moaned and talked, not saying anything really, barely aware of the stream of words and sounds coming from his mouth. As he got close he wrapped his lube-slick hand around Derek’s cock and let his hand slide up and down his length. Derek groaned and moved faster, rolling one of Stiles’ nipples between two fingers. It was the last straw for Stiles and he groaned and thrust, once, as he came. Derek shuddered and rocked back and his come spilled over Stiles’ hand and onto his stomach. For a minute, neither of them moved, breathing hard together. Derek moved his hand from Stiles’ chest and Stiles twitched, over-sensitive. 

Carefully, Derek lifted off Stiles and they both sighed, and he used a few tissues from Stiles’ bedside to clean them up a little, throwing them and the condom into a bin beside the bed that was surrounded, rather than full of, rubbish. 

He stretched out beside Stiles and closed his eyes, and Stiles touched his cheek, smiling a little. 

“Hey Derek?” he whispered.   
“Hmm?”   
“Stay the night?”   
Derek smiled and put a hand up Stiles’ hip, pulling him close. “Try and stop me,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue to go now!


	5. Epilogue: Good Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All wrapped up in a neat bow tie.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, holding Derek, “oh my god oh my god oh my god.”  
Derek glanced over his shoulder. Stiles had his eyes closed tight behind the helmet, and his arms wrapped around Derek’s waist as far as they would go. Derek shook his head and revved the bike and Stiles groaned. 

When they arrived Stiles climbed off shakily, pulling off the helmet. He was pale- well, paler than usual, and his hair stood up straight.  
“Why do you keep asking to ride with me if you hate it?” Derek asked, bemused, stripping off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the bike.  
“I don’t hate it,” Stiles retorted, struggling to undo his zipper with shaky hands. Derek stepped to him and took it, unzipping it for him.  
Stiles waved to the people in the distance, who sat on a grassy hill, and put his other jacket on over the white shirt he wore.  
“How do I look?” he asked.  
“Still a little terrified,” Derek said, “but otherwise, perfect. Is everyone here?”  
Stiles checked his phone. “Scott says everyone except us,” he said. “Do you think this is a good idea?” he asked suddenly, biting his lip.  
“This was _your_ idea,” Derek said, taking his own jacket out of its protector and shrugging it on. Stiles adjusted the collar and started putting on Derek’s tie.  
“Yes,” Stiles said, “which is why I’m worried. They’re going to be so mad!” 

Derek took over the tie when Stiles tied it in a knot, and shook his head.  
“It’s a good idea,” he said soothingly, “I like it. No-one’s going to be mad.”  
Stiles hummed. He was staring at an untied bow-tie with confusion, and Derek took it from his hands and put it on him.  
“If we’d come in the car we could have gotten dressed before we left you know,” Stiles said.  
Derek laughed, “I offered to go in the car, I offered to get us driven! We could have brought a limo if you wanted!”  
“But you wanted to go on the bike,” Stiles pouted while Derek finished putting on his bow tie.  
“I was happy doing what you want. But we’re done now, you look very handsome,” Derek smiled and kissed him lightly. 

They both wore simple suits, Derek’s navy blue with a black tie and Stiles wore a black suit with navy blue bow tie. Derek ran his hands through Stiles’ hair, trying to get it to sit flat- or as flat as it ever did. 

“Come on,” he said, “they’re waiting.” 

He took Stiles’ hand and they walked up the hill, where Derek and Stiles’ families both waited, along with their friends, on picnic blankets. 

It was sunny but cool in the park, getting on to late afternoon, and lights hung in the trees, preparing for dark to fall. There was a banner hanging that said “Happy Engagement!”, but Stiles carried rings in his pocket. He touched his pocket again to make sure. His vows were there too. 

They _probably_ weren’t going to be mad, he thought. 

He glanced at Derek, who was beaming, and at their parents who approached. 

Screw it, he thought, let them be mad. 

He grabbed Derek’s hand, and went to meet them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!  
> This was initially a 5000 word pwp but really amazing encouragement and interest resulted in it being a five-chapter full story with equal parts porn and plot, so thank you so much to everyone who's read or left a comment or kudos, it literally wouldn't exist without you!

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a literal dream I had, down to it actually being about Stiles and Derek. 
> 
> For those interested, in this AU everyone is alive and human, although Derek has obviously had nasty past relationships. I also know that I didn't get all the details of this type of sex work right, but I figured some details were worth the story. Please excuse any typos.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if you did :)
> 
> A Note: I slightly retconned the beginning: Stiles was originally 19 but as the story progressed I realised it made more sense for him to be older, so he's actually 22 here, despite the original first line.


End file.
